Not one more hand
by Theneversky
Summary: Everything happened at once then. With a small sound of agreement, Q slid deeper into Bond's kiss which meant he failed to hear the key turning in the lock. He failed to notice Drew had clocked off early and was now currently standing in the entrance of his living room. Basic summary, Drew is an abusive boyfriend, Bond swoops in to save the day. Kinda. Hope you enjoy! One-shot


Q tentatively touched the bruising around his eye. Every time he landed a blow on Q, he hated himself even more. He hated himself for not being able to break it off. He hated himself for not being able to stand up for himself. He hated himself because he was weak, and thin, and he _let _people treat him like shit. He applied some cream that apparently helped to reduce bruising, shoved on his thick black rimmed glasses and headed out the door before he could wake up. Hot tears pricked at his eye but he refused to let them fall. He never allowed himself to cry. Not over this.

The slippery side walk skidded under Q's traction less shoes. As the tube station grew nearer, he let his thoughts wander to Bond. That was always a dangerous thing to do. Whenever he thought of the completely insufferable man, always failing to return with at least _one_ of the gadgets he had made for him, he always felt envy. Bond was strong, confident and fearless. He would never stand to be with someone who treated him like totally shit. But no matter how much he wanted to be like Bond, Q could never pull himself to ask him how.

The tube ride to MI-6 was a short one considering Q lived within a short distance of it. He could probably walk the distance but the morning was shaping up to be a cold wet one. It was early in the morning so the building harboured only a small number of people finalising field reports and doing various other work projects. On the complete contrary, Q branch was buzzing with activity.

The tech supporters, trackers, hackers and interns were chatting frantically into communicators and typing viciously into keyboards. His black eye drew only a handful of glances before the prying eyes returned to their tasks. It wasn't unusual for an MI-6 worker to come into work baring some kind of injury. Only minutes after Q had settled behind his work bench at the end of Q branch, Bond was there asking him about his week. Bond had been in Rome working on a case involving a rare painting and a drug smuggler with five dead bodies on his hands. Five dead very important bodies. And other than seeing him through blurry CTV cameras and hearing him over static filled com. lines, he hadn't seen him in over a week.

It felt good to see him again. Q never really got on with other members of Q branch. In fact, the only other person that he liked other than bond was Money penny. She had been his friend from the day he Got to MI-6. Everyone else thought he was too young. She knew too well what that can feel like.

"Got into a bar fight did we Q?"

Q lifted his eyebrow quizzically before he remembered his bruise.

"Oh um, yeah. It was completely his fault though. It's not like I meant to spill my beer on his shoes." Bond quirked his mouth up slightly but didn't call him out on his lie. He silently wondered if Bond actually knew if he was lying. He was trained to for Christ sake.

The day flew by in a blur of agents and computer code. Now that Bond was on break, Q spent his day working a prototype for a new gadget he was rather hopeful of. In fact, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed Bond's invitation.

"Hmm? I'm sorry, lost in thought." Bond merely huffed out a small laugh and repeated his question a little slower the second time.

"Would you, Q, like to come for a drink?" Q's words jammed in his throat. Bond was incredible, and he would be lying if he hadn't thought of in…other ways before. He wanted this. He wanted to go for a drink with Bond, but he didn't want it to be _just_ a drink. He couldn't stop the words before the spilled from his lips.

"Why?"

"I've got to admit Q, I'm a little hurt." Bond cockily sat back in the chair opposite Bond's desk and folded his arms comfortably over his chest. Q scrabbled to make amends.

"No no no! I just meant that, well, you're 007 and you're an agent!-"

"-How very observant of you."

"-And I like you Bond! I like you…more than you like me." Q didn't want to say the words but they came anyway. He deserved this, didn't he? After everything that he has put up with. Shitty Boyfriends, shitty _Girlfriends_, piss poor excuses for family members and whole load of _fun_ times in school. He deserved to have something that he wanted but there was no way in hell he was going to be lead on only to find that a certain 007 agent was just 'having a little fun'.

"And how would you know that?" His words startled the young quartermaster. Did Bond really like him? But he was so…_small. _He was practically a pre-superhero Steve Rogers. OK, maybe not that small. Bond let out a small chuckle at Q's stunned silence and stood up. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he said "I never got an answer for that drink."

Not able to form proper words, Q just nodded, grabbed his coat and followed Bond out of Q branch. Walking side-by-side down the street, they really did just look like two friends grabbing a drink after a hard day at work. If this night didn't go anywhere other than that, he could be happy with that. But oh, did the night progress. After a few too many drinks, Bond began to get slightly tipsy and maybe spoke just a tad too loudly. Q loved every minute. He loved seeing this unrestrained side of Bond. No mask, no façade, he was no important 007 agent trained to kill you. He was just James tonight. Q refused to let his mind get any more than fuzzy so he stopped at only a few drinks. Which of course meant that he was now responsible for getting Bond out of the pub and home without any major incidents.

He half carried the staggering agent up the side walk and realised a little too late that he had brought him back to his townhouse. Q hesitated. Drew wouldn't be back for another- he checked his watch- two hours yet. He could get Bond sobered up and on his way by then. Maybe? Grumbling under his breath he reached for his key and shoved it into the lock letting them both in. Dumping Bond on the couch, he shrugged off his jacket before he set to work on pulling Bond's from his shoulders.

"Oh Q, I'm not quite sure if we're here yet." Q rolled his eyes and threw his thick black coat carelessly over the coffee table.

"Don't be ridiculous Bond. I just need you to sober up and get out of here soon. I can't have you on the tube pissed and staggering back to…wherever it is you live." Bond's expression grew serious as he snatched Q's wrist, halting his progress on removing bond's suit jacket.

"What if I don't want to leave? What if I want to spend some time with you?" Q's throat tightened. He wanted Bond to stay, God he wanted him to stay. But if Drew walked in with a strange very attractive man sprawled on his couch things wouldn't go down very well for Q. It physically pained him to say what he did.

"Not tonight Bond. Maybe some other time." Q cast his eyes toward the ground at he rose from his crouch beside Bond. However, before he could make it all the way up, a rough hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back down again, his lips crushing into Bond's. Everything happened at once then. With a small sound of agreement, Q slid deeper into Bond's kiss which meant he failed to hear the key turning in the lock. He failed to notice Drew had clocked off early and was now currently standing in the entrance of his living room. Q broke off quickly and stood ram-rod straight,

"Drew! You're back early."

"What the fuck is going on 'ere!?" Q was cut off by a staggering Bond trying to apologise profusely.

"Look mate, it's not what you think. Q's was just-" Bond was cut off by bond crunching fist to the face. The punch hit squarely on his cheek bone sending Bond to the ground.

"Stop it!" Q was outraged. He hated him Drew. And although he had never been able to stand up for himself before, somehow he found it easier to stand up for someone else. And Bond had known it all along. Q shoved Drew hard in the chest. "Get out! I hate you! God I fucking hate you!"

"You can't kick me out Quinton! This is my flat too!"

"No it's not! You just stay here because otherwise your broke ass would be on the street. Which is exactly where I'm sending you!" Q was right up in his face, his pule racing. This felt good. Standing up to Drew was something he never thought possible and yet, here he was, completely un afraid of the raised hand against him. Q didn't break his eye contact with Drew even as he swung his hand toward his face. He wasn't going to flinch, not this time. Only, the hand never connected with his face. One moment Drew was in front of him, eyes blazing with hatred, and the next he was pinned up against the wall with his arm twisted at an excruciating angle.

Bond leaned in close to his pathetic whimpering face and growled. "Don't you lay a fucking hand on him." A simple jerk of his hand would break Drew's arm. Q wanted it, but he knew otherwise.

"Bond don't. The bastard doesn't have enough money to feed himself let alone afford a hospital bill. Just let him go."

"Please God let me Go!" The dammed bastard deserved it. Q could only look with a rather content feeling inside him. Bond turned his head to him.

"I'll only be a minute." And then they were gone. Bond viciously shoving Drew ahead of him and out the door. Q didn't hear anything other than a few grunts and one loud shout before Bond was back in his home with blood on his knuckles. Bond had never really been drunk or helpless. He was a 007 agent after all.

"You knew. All this time you knew. Why didn't you just say something?" Bond walked briskly over to him and leaned in close.

"Because that was _way_ more satisfying."

Their kiss was long and deep and Q never wanted it to end.


End file.
